


Soulmates Gone Viral

by Brumeier



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Community: mcsheplets, Gun Violence, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-19 02:14:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11303631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: Life in Pegasus is full of the unexpected, such as a mysterious virus that seems to leave soulmarks in its wake. As usual, even that goes awry for John and Rodney.





	Soulmates Gone Viral

**Author's Note:**

> McSheplets prompt #256: Virus

“You’re lucky,” Rodney said when he joined Teyla and John for lunch, dropping his tray on the table with a clunk. 

“Which one of us?” John asked.

Rodney flapped a hand like it didn’t matter. “This whole not-tattoo thing is distracting my people from their work. Teyla’s one of the lucky ones.”

“Not-tattoo? Is that what we’re calling them?”

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something more ridiculous,” Rodney said with an eye roll. 

John mouthed _puddlejumper_.

“I have heard some people refer to them as soulmarks,” Teyla said.

John had to fight the reflexive urge to touch his own wrist. His not-tattoo was just starting to come in and he was hiding it under his wristband.

“What the hell is a soulmark?” Rodney asked. 

Teyla arched one delicate eyebrow, which may have been at Rodney’s tone or the bluntness of him pointing out that she was in the minority as far as the not-tattoos were concerned. “Dr. Heightmeyer said that some of your people believe in a bonding of two souls, and that she has read books that depict that bond through a special mark on the skin.”

John inwardly groaned. Soulmates? Things were getting out of hand. If enough of the affected members of the expedition believed in that there would be repercussions. Chain of command issues, fraternization issues…a whole host of problems that John couldn’t even begin to predict.

“This is Zelenka’s fault.” Rodney waved his fork at Teyla. “See? You’re lucky you didn’t get one.”

“Insensitive much, McKay?” John muttered, but Teyla didn’t look very upset about being part of the thirty percent of expedition members that didn’t develop the skin pigmentation change Rodney was calling the not-tattoo.

Parrish had been patient zero, the first one to drop with a dangerously high fever and a full-body rash. By the time half the soft-sciences staff joined him in the infirmary, a very frazzled Carson had determined a virus to be at work. And no amount of quarantining or other preventative measures kept it at bay. Everyone had been infected, the sickness lasting three days. Three days after the fever broke, the mark started to show.

“I do not see how Dr. Zelenka is at fault.”

“He’s the one who realized his not-tattoo had a match.”

John remembered, had just been getting over his own fever when Radek had dragged the Russian chemist to see Carson. Their marks matched, the ballet slipper the pigeon was sitting on making perfect sense now because Dr. Petrikov had been a renowned ballet star as a child.

Soulmates. Shit.

“Soulmates,” Rodney said with a sigh. “Just what we need. That’s romance novel nonsense. I don’t need some stupid mark telling me who I should be with.”

John glanced at Rodney’s wrists – all the marks had shown up on the delicate skin there – but Rodney had started wearing long-sleeved shirts as soon as he got out of the infirmary. He obviously had a not-tattoo, and just as obviously wasn’t interested in sharing it with anyone. John could sympathize.

“You guys talking about the soulmarks?” Ford slid into the empty seat, his eyes alight. “It’s pretty cool, right?”

“Why are you so happy about it?” Rodney snapped. “You don’t have one.”

“True,” Ford agreed amiably. “But that probably means my soulmate isn’t here in Atlantis. So I figure it’s a sign we’ll get back to Earth, because that’s where my soulmate must be.”

“There’s not a shred of logic in that at all.”

Teyla frowned at Rodney. “Aiden has every right to believe what he believes. Do you have proof he is wrong?”

“Well, no, but –”

“Then perhaps he is correct.”

Rodney scowled at his tray, but he had nothing else to say on the subject of the not-tattoos. Teyla tactfully redirected the conversation, but John didn’t pay much attention to Ford’s recounting of his efforts to teach the Athosian children how to play soccer. He was worried about what his own not-tattoo would reveal, what random someone he might share a mark with and what it would mean.

Though he was almost the last to arrive, Rodney was the first to leave. 

“I’m the only one getting any work done, and someone has to figure out where this virus came from.”

“Is there something we could do to help?” Teyla offered.

“The computers are doing most of the work. Tracking everyone’s whereabouts the day this started to see if anyone went into a restricted area.”

“Ancient device?” John asked.

Rodney shrugged. “We’ve seen stranger things since we’ve been out here.”

John watched him leave. If anyone could figure out the cause of the virus, it was Rodney. He was the smartest, most exasperating man John had ever met and he could admit, if only to himself, that he might have fallen a little in love with the man the day he pushed him off the balcony to test the personal shield.

Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing, if he and Rodney ended up with matching not-tattoos.

*o*o*o*

John sat in his office, feet up on his desk, and studied the underside of his wrist. His not-tattoo had come in and he wasn’t sure what it meant. Everyone else had a mark that melded two different images, like the cameo and claw hammer on Carson’s wrist: the cameo was an exact replica of the one his mother had worn her whole life, and the hammer turned out to represent Laura Cadman’s grandfather, who was a carpenter and someone she was very close to.

There was only one image on John’s wrist: Atlantis seen from above as if John was flying a ‘jumper overhead. It looked almost like a snowflake.

One mark. Maybe it was because he had such a powerful ATA gene? Maybe the city was his soulmate; Rodney had made accusations along those lines plenty of times in the past.

Clearly John was destined to be alone. Having no mark at all would’ve indicated that he didn’t have a match on Atlantis, which was fine. But having a solitary mark? What if that meant he didn’t have a match anywhere? Not in two galaxies?

Or maybe he should stop buying into the whole soulmate thing. Just because everyone else was drinking the Kool-Aid didn’t mean he had to as well. Rodney still hadn’t determined the source of the virus, though he and Radek had had several suspiciously whispered conversations.

Elizabeth had her own theory. She was concerned that the nanites hadn’t been completely deactivated by the electromagnetic pulse, only this time instead of killing people they were altering them in some way. Carson was in the process of running some discreet tests so as not to alarm everyone.

John rubbed his thumb over the mark. It was smooth, like a tattoo, and several shades darker than his natural skin tone. He’d never been the kind of guy to go in for body art or piercings or any of that kind of thing, but this…he liked this. Atlantis belonged to him in a way nothing else ever had, and he didn’t mind having that commemorated.

_Major Sheppard, you’re needed on the South Pier immediately._

John startled at the voice over the earpiece, and hastily pulled his wristband back on before he hit the button and replied.

“This is Major Sheppard. Sit rep?”

_There’s been an accident. Dr. Beckett is on his way._

“How many injured?”

_Uncertain, Sir. Sergeant Derricks and Dr. McKay are involved, though._

“I’m on my way.”

John ran to the nearest transporter, his heart in his throat. Rodney.

*o*o*o*

“I couldn’t let you do it!” Derricks insisted. He was kneeling in the hall outside the nanite lab, hands in restraints behind his back with Ford standing guard over him.

John was more concerned with Rodney, who was lying in front of the lab door, his shirt ripped open so Carson could staunch the flow of blood from the bullet wound in his side. One of his male nurses was assisting him.

“You shot me!” Rodney’s voice lacked its usual snap. Instead he sounded bewildered. “Carson, he shot me.”

“I know that, Rodney,” Carson replied patiently.

“Never been shot before.”

“Now that I find hard to believe.”

“Hey,” Rodney protested weakly.

Luckily for Derricks, the shot was a through-and-through that seemed to have missed Rodney’s internal organs, though Carson wouldn’t commit to that until he had Rodney in the infirmary under the scanner.

John turned to the young Sergeant, the sight of Rodney’s blood turning his stomach. “You couldn’t let him do what?”

He didn’t know if it was the tone of his voice, or whatever expression was on his face, but Derricks paled and snapped his spine straight as a pole. “Sir, the nanite lab was sealed for a reason. The risk of letting those things out again is too high. This expedition can’t take any more losses, Sir.”

“And you thought shooting our Chief Science Officer, the one who keeps us all alive and with hot water in our showers, was the best way to reduce that risk?” John’s hands curled into fists. “Your job is to _protect_ the scientists, Sergeant, not use them for target practice!”

Derricks hung his head. “I panicked, Sir.”

“No shit, Sergeant.” John nodded at Ford. “I want him confined to quarters until further notice.”

“Yes, Sir,” Ford replied. He helped Derricks to his feet and marched him back to the transporter.

John took a steadying breath and crouched down next to Rodney, on the side opposite where Carson was working. “Hey.”

Rodney turned his head and looked up at John, his face etched with pain despite the shot of morphine Carson had given him. “He shot me.”

“So I heard. What were you doing out here, buddy?”

“Nanites. Has to be. Radek’s too smitten with his chemist to see reason, but I’m right. I know I’m right. Elizabeth thinks so too.”

“Did you have her go-ahead to unseal the lab?”

Rodney shook his head. “No. But I didn’t come alone! I had backup, and he shot me, Sheppard. That’s not why I brought him.”

John huffed out a laugh. “Elizabeth is going to be mad.”

“Major, I’ll need you to step back,” Carson interrupted. 

John moved out of the way as the gurney was put in position and Rodney was loaded up on it. He knew he shouldn’t, but John couldn’t help reaching for Rodney’s hand. He walked beside the gurney as it was pushed back down the hall.

“I needed one,” Rodney tried to explain. “If I could look at its programming…I could figure out how. And why.”

“The people with the marks are quite happy,” Carson said.

“But mine’s wrong,” Rodney whispered. “It has to be wrong.”

John’s heart clenched. Who had Rodney been paired up with? Who else knew how to best re-direct the man when he got into a panic? Who else remembered to bring him Power Bars and coffee and sandwiches when he worked late in the lab?

“You don’t believe in soulmates,” John pointed out. Or maybe he was just grasping at straws.

“Maybe they don’t believe in me.” Rodney sighed and closed his eyes, his hand going limp in John’s.

Carson clucked and shook his head. “He’ll be fine, Major. We’ll get him patched up. Nothing to be done for the pessimism, I’m afraid.”

“Do you believe in all this soulmate business?” John asked him. He helped get the gurney into the transporter, and tapped the infirmary on the map. 

“I’m not sure what to believe,” Carson admitted. 

The transporter doors slid open and they pushed the gurney towards the infirmary.

“I’m a man of science, however much Rodney says otherwise. But without the mark I’d never have considered approaching Laura. And more’s the pity, because we get on so well.”

“I think it’s romantic,” the nurse put in.

“Okay. But match-making nanites? That’s pretty far-fetched, don’t you think?”

“You know what they say, lad.” They’d arrived at the infirmary and Carson’s team was waiting. “You’re a long time dead. May as well enjoy life while you can.”

On that cheery note Carson, the gurney and Rodney were gone and John was left standing in the hall wishing he knew what the hell it all meant.

*o*o*o*

John sat next to Rodney’s bed, ostensibly reading his book but really watching the regular rise and fall of Rodney’s chest as he breathed. Carson was keeping him a day or two, just to make sure he didn’t catch an infection as his wound healed. Rodney was lucky that Derricks, panicked though he may have been, had the presence of mind not to put him down permanently.

_But mine’s wrong._

John stuck his finger in his book and looked at Rodney’s hands. One was palm down on the bed, the other resting on his stomach. His long-sleeved shirt had been exchanged for a blue scrub top, so his wrists were exposed. It would be easy enough to take a peek while Rodney was asleep.

“How’s the book?”

John was so startled he nearly dropped _War and Peace_ , juggling it for a minute before he got a firm grip on it. He glared at Rodney, who was glaring right back at him.

“Glad to see you’re feeling better, McKay.”

“No thanks to your trigger happy jarhead. Is he being court-martialed?”

John leaned back in the chair and propped a foot up on Rodney’s bed just to see him frown. All was right in Atlantis if Rodney McKay was complaining.

“Everyone wanted to throw him a party, even though his aim was off.”

“Oh, ha ha. Make fun of the guy with the bullet wound. Very nice.” 

Rodney rolled his eyes, but John could hear the hurt underneath the words and immediately regretted saying them. He dropped his foot and leaned forward, reaching for Rodney’s hand.

“Hey. I didn’t mean that.”

“No, it’s fine. I know people don’t like me.”

“I like you,” John pointed out.

“Well, you’re an idiot.” But Rodney’s crooked mouth quirked up in a grin. “So how much trouble am I in?”

“If Elizabeth could court-martial _you_ , she would. She wasn’t too thrilled with the lack of authorization, hazmat gear, or qualified back-up.”

“Yeah, well.” Rodney’s grin faded and he pulled his left hand up to his chest, cradling his wrist. “I guess I got a little carried away.”

John huffed out a laugh. How typical of Rodney to downplay his own culpability. It was just lucky he had as many lives as a cat, since he was just as curious.

“You want to talk about it?”

Rodney gave John an incredulous look. “What? No. No, I don’t. And you shouldn’t either, Major Gives-Nothing-Away. It’s a not-tattoo thing, and since you don’t –”

“I have one,” John blurted out, a little horrified to hear the words coming out of his mouth. Rodney looked just as surprised to hear them.

“You do? Do you…I mean, who…?”

“No-one.” John pulled his wristband off and held his arm out for Rodney’s inspection.

Rodney stared at John’s mark for a long time, and when he ran his fingertips over it John could barely suppress the shudder than ran through him.

“I thought mine was wrong,” Rodney whispered. “I thought it meant no-one wanted me.”

He looked at John and slowly turned his arm until his wrist was showing, and the distinctive snowflake shape marked there. John felt all the air go out of the room for one long moment.

“What does it mean?” John asked, his voice hushed. He traced Rodney’s mark the same way Rodney had traced his.

“Well, obviously we’re far superior to everyone else.” Rodney sounded incredibly smug.

"How do you figure that?" John asked. He couldn’t stop running his thumb over Rodney’s not-tattoo.

“What? Oh.” Rodney cleared his throat. “I mean, everyone else with a mark has two different images, one for each person. But we share the same one, which means we’re focused on the same things. Great…great minds, you know. We don’t have to…It’s like...If you keep doing that I’m going to start making assumptions.”

John looked up and saw that Rodney’s face was flushed. He was obviously ill-at-ease, so John tried to move his hand; Rodney clamped his other hand down over it, holding John in place.

“I _want_ to make assumptions,” he said. “Wanted to, even before the not-tattoos.”

John was finding it a little hard to catch his breath. “I don’t believe in soulmates.”

“I don’t either. But something’s happening here, Sheppard. Don’t you think this warrants some study?” Rodney licked his lips, and John had a pretty good idea what he meant by _study_.

“Well…if it’s in the pursuit of scientific discovery, I guess that would be okay.” One mark for both of them. It had to mean something. “One mark to rule them all?”

“Do the Marines know you’re a huge nerd?” Rodney asked, but he released his hold on John’s arm and was looking at him with an expression bordering on affection.

“Let’s just keep that between us, okay?”

“Between us,” Rodney parroted back. He gave John a shy smile. “I like that.”

John still wasn’t sold on the idea of his love life being predestined, but in this case…in this case he was willing to go with the flow.

**Author's Note:**

>  **AN:** So many thanks to nagi_schwarz for her support. This fic was cruising right along until the last scene and then it was a tooth-and-nail battle. Hopefully I wrangled it into a mostly pleasing shape. ::grins::


End file.
